


The Autobot Who Was Super-Smart And Great At Everything

by Sophisticated_Adult



Series: The Adventures of SG Hot Rod [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot Rod arrives on Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Autobot Who Was Super-Smart And Great At Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Why does this keep happening when I pick characters at random, I did not ask for SG Hot Rod + Skyfire feelings AND YET
> 
> If Skyfire has a canon SG personality I don't know about it as this is my own invention, you can't really get away from SG Ratchet though so *shrug*.  
> "Everyone is stupid except me" = SG Hot Rod's life policy

Hot Rod licked his lips as he turned his head this way and then that, enjoying the sight in the mirror. Overall, he was fairly pleased with the changes that had taken place. He fingered the collar around his neck. It was encrusted with rubies and caught what little light the Ark had to offer. Hot Rod briefly wondered if Prime had it custom-made for him, or if it had once belonged to some other mech who'd since fallen out of favour. Well, that wouldn't happen to him, he thought fiercely. Not after coming so far.

True, the collar now marked him as a piece of property, but it also gave protection against bigger and crueler mech than he was used to; the Autobots who mattered, in other words. See precious Springer get down here, he thought smugly. The eternal favourite couldn't hope to match him now he was the Prime's favourite. Favourite frag-toy, yes, but it was a start. It would be better than it was before. It had to be. He didn't have any other options to advance, not with his build. Too small, too frail compared to the bulky brutes the Autobots favoured, never mind that he was fast and could adapt quickly. In a culture that praised mindless strength, anyone with half a brain was someone to watch out for.

That was why he'd hated Arcee so much. She was the only other Autobot he'd known who could match the niche he'd tried to carve out for himself. She'd hated him right back for spoiling her plans rely on her looks. She thought too small, that was her problem. Sure, she could get Blurr and Whirl at each other's throats while she simpered in the background, but who the frag cared about those losers? There was more to life than the Wreckers, and Hot Rod would swear to anyone who listened that he'd been the only damn one to recognise that. Arcee could have the whole damn base as far as he was concerned; she was welcome to it, the losers stuck on an asteroid in the middle of nowhere thinking they were even remotely important in the grand scheme of things. No. It was here where things were happening, here was the only chance anyone had of being somebody.

And now he was here...what to do next? He needed information, he decided. Not friends, not allies, mechs he could trust; he wasn't an idiot. He needed to know who to avoid, who he could exploit, who couldn't keep their optics off him when Prime paraded him around for all to see. He'd had something of a preview in the form of an inspection from both Prowl and Red Alert - the former was definitely interested, the latter merely did his job with no fuss - and a scan and check-up from the head medic, Ratchet. He approved of Prime's precaution, even if it made things harder. It was nice to know the supreme leader of the Autobots wasn't an idiot. Hot Rod had never even thought of planting some nasty surprise in himself for the next slaghead who took him because they were bigger and weren't shy about breaking limbs to keep him in place. It was a fascinating theory, but sadly one that he'd have to put on the back-burner. Already a a few names lined up that he'd like to try it on.

Privately, he was glad the Prime himself attended the session with Ratchet, although it made it difficult to analyse what he could of the medic since he kept wanting to stare. But what Hot Rod had managed to glean was: stay far away. There was nothing there for him to use, not when Ratchet was a lunatic in a world of his own. Hot Rod got the definite sense that, had the Prime's presence not kept the chatty medic on-track, a routine check-up could easily have turned into something nightmarish.

_It nearly did, in fact, when - without warning - the medic jammed a hand into his subspace and started rooting around, ruthlessly yanking out what little possessions he owned: spare pistol, Whirl's favourite energon knife, some bottle of incense or perfume or whatever he'd stolen from Arcee out of sheer spite, and -_

_"And what is this?" Ratchet cooed, shaking the tiny vial back and forth. "Very naughty."_

_"It's a last resort," he said defensively, trying to both not turn his head to where the Prime's optics were burning their gaze into him and to avoid looking directly at the crazed medic with a handful of Cosmic Rust acting like he'd just been given a treat. It had been his best=kept secret. It had always been nice to know that, if anything ever really went wrong, then he always had the option of giving his attacker a face full of Cosmic Rust. One of the lab guys complained for days afterwards since it was hard to get hold of the stuff, but none of the commanders were ever really bothered with that kind of thing when punching and shooting still worked._

_"I think it would perhaps be best if I took this." The Prime plucked the vial out of Ratchet's hands. "A rather...unique trick, nonetheless." The pleased sound in that deep rumble did strange things to his spark._

_"You are just no fun sometimes." Ratchet pouted._

New policy: avoid anyone who reminded him of Whirl. There was no bargaining with them. You had nothing they wanted except the pretty colours that bled when they stabbed you. The fact that there was more than one was slightly worrying. Hopefully Ratchet got the message with Prime looming over him like that, but there was no way he'd be there every time Hot Rod couldn't fix himself up.

That was the wrong sort of attention, but the right sort...that was power. It was having someone like Roadbuster wrapped around your little finger, as long as you wielded it properly. You couldn't stop him taking what he wanted, but in return, he'd fight the others to keep hold of his claim. At least Roadbuster almost cared. Sometimes. He'd once asked, in complete sincerity, if Hot Rod liked it. So, when he decided you were his pet cyber-cat for the day, it was easier to comply than fight or run, because whoever caught you would be worse. And there was always the entertainment that followed when some jealous or spiteful mech tried to take him away before Roadbuster was done.

Adapt and survive. That was how he lived. Pride and shame were both setbacks, so he discarded them and learned how to manipulate them in others. Ironhide, for instance. He'd definitely enjoyed his little session, not even catching the paralysis trick every Wrecker hated. He was already halfway there. All Hot Rod needed to do was find what buttons to press, what lures worked and what didn't. Would be turn against the Prime, as Roadbuster turned against Springer? That was a future project.

Hot Rod decided a walk wouldn't hurt as a first test of his powers against these new mechs.

\---

He'd fucked up. Already he was learning the new language, where fucked was a much better word than fragged in nearly every situation. Such as now. He hadn't expected it to be this fast.

"You really wanna do this?" There was no point struggling, not against someone as big as the Prime. Instead he concentrated on the one giant hand clasped around his neck, the collar nothing but jewellery. How did the minibots cope with these huge mechs? He'd have to study them, too.

"What if I do, little one?"

The jet-black mech was impressive, but was he stupid or did he think he was big enough that he didn't have to fear the Prime's wrath? Or did he know something Hot Rod didn't, that Prime expected him to fend for himself against an army of Ultra Magnuses?

"Well, Prime would be able to tell. And he hasn't even had me yet. He might not care, I don't know him that well, but at least give him the courtesy of being the first, yeah?" He flashed the best smile he could manage in the current circumstances. It worked, because the giant laughed and dropped him unceremoniously to the floor with a loud clang.

"I just wanted to see what you would do, little mech. I know who you belong to."

To Hot Rod's amazement, the black mech bent down and offered him an outstretched hand. After a frozen nanoklik, he took it.

"My name is Skyfire," the strange mech said. "Does the Lord Prime know you're wandering the halls?"

Halls was being a bit generous, Hot Rod thought. "Well, no, but I've not been forbidden from it. Thanks," he added, making a show of rubbing his neck - a subtle way of flattery he'd found worked wonders on the sort of Autobot who grabbed you by the neck in the first place, i.e. most of them. "Skyfire?" he repeated, some distant memory circuit flashing. "From the ice?"

"You know about that?" Skyfire seemed surprised.

Hot Rod shrugged. "We got news from time to time." They'd tried to spin it as some huge victory over the Decepticons, but the general resentment and bitter jealousy at not being selected for Earth meant Skyfire wasn't a popular name back...there. Like slag he was going to call it 'home.'

"Well, joining the Autobots seemed the most logical choice, even with what limited information I had at the time. I do feel sorry for Starscream sometimes, but, well, he made his choice as I made mine. And as for you, I'd advise you to return to wherever the Lord Prime left you, and stay there until you have permission to be elsewhere. As one Autobot to another." Skyfire smiled. As in, actually smiled. As a mech who'd experienced - not to mention perfected - any and all amounts of mocking smirks, grins and so on, it was hard for Hot Rod not to stare. The mech was so genuine it was nearly painful.

"If you do get permission, you can usually find me in the lab," Skyfire added, even going so far as to ping him with a map and directions. "Others here might be a bit less... _accommodating_ than I am, so if you need somewhere to go, feel free to drop by. Not, of course, that I think any of my fellow Autobots would ever think they would have a claim on the Lord Prime's property."

Yeah, cameras. He'd had conversations like this before. Red Alert was a no-go, but there was a communications guy it might be worth checking out.

"Thanks, Skyfire. I really appreci-" he started when a huge black hand suddenly enveloped his own.

"Shall I escort you?" Skyfire asked, smiling again, and something Hot Rod couldn't identify gleaming in his optics.

"Sure, if you want to. I mean, I wouldn't want to impose or anything."

"I'd hardly want you to run off into trouble," said Skyfire. "Newcomers tend to attract it."


End file.
